


Cabin Fever

by TheFifthCharmedOne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, M/M, More tags to be added, Pining, Slow Burn, Top Harry, don't be intimidated by the amount of ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFifthCharmedOne/pseuds/TheFifthCharmedOne
Summary: “You’re sure you’ll be able to live with him, Auror Potter?” “Yes, Minister.” “And you swear to alert your partner if anything goes wrong?”If Malfoy tries to kill you?went unsaid. “Yes.” Harry answered. “Well then…I, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, do hereby release Death Eater sympathizer Draco Lucius Malfoy into your care, Auror Harry James Potter.”





	1. Keep Calm and Carry On

“Next on the docket…the Malfoy family!” 

Draco’s shoulders hunched inward defensively, his eyes on his nicely polished shoes. The last thing he wanted was to look at anyone the wrong way and cause further trouble. He forced himself not to appear as humiliated and degraded as he felt. 

Lucius, somehow, still managed to walk with his head held high, the picture of innocence despite the evidence to the contrary. Narcissa had her arm around Draco’s shoulders, a protective expression on her face even though Draco was of age and didn’t (shouldn’t) need her protection. 

“You come before us today charged of several crimes against wizard-kind.” Kingsley Shacklebolt said loudly, silencing the chatter around him. “We begin with you, Lucius Malfoy. Son of Abraxas, former Slytherin prefect at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, former member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and, most recently, a defector of Lord Voldemort’s regime.” A visible wince on the faces of some Wizengamot members, Draco noted. 

“You stand accused of believing in blood supremacy, aiding and abetting criminals including Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr., the Carrows, and many others. You have also threatened the lives of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, you likely played a role in the torture of respected Aurors Alice and Frank Longbottom, who were permanently committed to the Janus Thickey ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. You were also partially responsible for the near murder of Ginny Weasley, as you were entrusted with one of Voldemort’s-” -another shiver- “seven Horcruxes.” 

With his crimes laid before him, Lucius seemed to deflate, his face losing all color and his hair almost dulling as though he and it were connected emotionally. 

“Have you anything to say in your defense?”

Lucius cleared his throat. 

“Minister.” he nodded toward Kingsley respectfully. “Esteemed members of the Wizengamot. I come here today not to defend myself nor my actions, but simply to explain that my loyalty was never truly to the Dark Lord. I am guilty of believing in blood supremacy, as the Malfoy family has for centuries, and in my misguided attempts to achieve that end, I committed many egregious acts, for which I apologize most profoundly.” 

“I’m afraid it is too late for apologies.” Shacklebolt said gravely. “Wizengamot, what say you? Present the owls with your vote for Mr. Malfoy’s sentence.” 

Draco’s glance skittered across the room, never maintaining contact for more than a millisecond. He froze, though, when he caught Harry Potter’s familiar emerald gaze. 

Seated with to the Minister on his left and Granger and Weasley on the right, the Savior of the Wizarding World was watching the room as well. He almost seemed to be gauging the reactions, predicting the outcome. 

Something was different about Potter – his hair was still an atrocious monstrosity, his skin vaguely tan (he probably played Quidditch whenever he could, lucky bastard), his glasses still obnoxiously large, magnifying his eyes…that was it. 

His _scar_. 

No longer in the shape of the Killing Curse’s wand movement, Harry Potter’s famous scar was now in the shape of a lightning strike. Not a simple zigzag, but an actual meteorological phenomenon. The top of the scar disappeared into his fringe, while the bottom grazed his right eyebrow. 

“The votes have been collected.” Kingsley announced, and Draco tore his eyes away from Harry’s newest feature. His mother’s arm around his shoulder tightened to an almost painful degree, and Draco fought the urge to wince and wriggle away, as he had done numerous times as a child. “The Wizengamot has unanimously decided on...Azkaban. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you will be imprisoned for no less than five years.” 

His mother gasped, horrified, and Draco met Potter’s gaze across the room. The Savior was frowning, and his eyes seemed to convey pity of all things. Draco scowled instinctively – he didn’t need anyone’s pity, and especially not Potter’s!

Two Aurors appeared seemingly out of nowhere and shot a quick Incarcerous at Lucius, who did not fight back. His mouth was set into a firm line, his face devoid of emotion, but his eyes betrayed his anguish. 

“Narcissa, my love.” He reached for Draco’s mother, and the Aurors allowed the couple to embrace. “Take care of our son.”

“Always, Lucius. Always.” she promised, and, in a rare display of affection, Lucius kissed Narcissa’s forehead.  
Lucius was led away, and Narcissa stepped forward, prepared for the worst. 

“Daughter of Druella, former Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, former hostess to the Death Eaters at your estate in Wiltshire, and, most notably, a traitor to Lord Voldemort, and thus becoming an unsung heroine in your own right. Have you anything to say?”

Narcissa squared her shoulders, her head tilted upward just slightly – not snobbishly, but in an attempt to maintain her dignity, or that was how Draco understood it. 

“My name is Narcissa Malfoy. I was born into the House of Black, so blood supremacy has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Longer, even.” Narcissa began. “Accuse me of crimes as you see fit but do understand that it was not about Voldemort, nor was it really about eradicating Muggle-borns and half-bloods. It was about protecting my family from a true madman. Defending my husband. Saving my son. We were under constant threat; whether it was from the Dark Lord himself, or from my sister Bellatrix, or Fenrir Greyback…we had little choice but to go along with the actions of those around us.” 

“It is my understanding that you lied to Voldemort about Harry’s demise, correct?” Kingsley asked. 

“Yes.” Narcissa replied crisply, with a nod in Harry’s direction. 

“As this action ultimately led to the defeat of Voldemort,” Kingsley addressed the Wizengamot. “I am willing to accept probation or suspension as reasonable punishments.”

A vibrating murmur began through the assembled witches and wizards, some with clear contempt, others speculative, and still others…forgiving? Draco couldn’t parse together the facial expressions of them all, so he resumed watching Potter. 

“Wizengamot, what say you? Present your owls with your vote for Mrs. Malfoy’s sentence.” 

Draco hardly dared to breathe as Kingsley collected the votes. “The votes have been collected. The Wizengamot has decided on…” Kingsley paused, and Draco swallowed hard. “Suspension. You are to leave the United Kingdom for a period of no less than two years. You will be monitored by Aurors wherever you go, but you will ultimately be free.”

Narcissa released a watery gasp, gratitude clear in her expression as her hand rose to cover her mouth. 

“We will now break for lunch,” Kingsley told the members gathered. “Draco Malfoy’s presentation and sentence will take place in an hour’s time. Please return promptly.”

-X-X-X-

Draco, to his surprise, was free to wander through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Obviously, if he tried to flee or leave the area in any way, he would be apprehended and likely join his father on the long trek to Azkaban, but Draco was glad for the chance to stretch his legs. 

He walked toward the Ministry’s cafeteria, not to get food (his stomach was in far too much of an uproar to even consider it) but to perhaps look out into the spelled windows, and at least pretend he could see the outside world. 

“Are you sure about that, mate?” Ron Weasley said in a hushed tone. “He was a complete prick to us all throughout Hogwarts, you know that. Never mind that he let the blasted Death Eaters into the castle in the first place-” 

“I know,” Potter responded, his tone resigned. “But you didn’t see him in that bathroom, Ron. He was completely miserable-”

“We all were!” Weasley interrupted, but Granger shushed him and gestured for Potter to continue. 

“He hated what he was being forced to do. He took no true joy in it, any of it, and that makes him different from the rest of the Death Eaters. And he never took the Dark Mark either. I may not be able to change anyone’s mind, but if I at least try, my conscience will be clear.” 

“I still say you’re mad.” 

“You’re probably right.” 

Draco leaned back against the wall, his heart hammering. Was Potter planning on speaking on his behalf? Why? Was he truly so stupid to think that the Savior speaking for him wouldn’t create a ripple among the Wizengamot?

“We’d better get back,” Granger said after a few moments. “Lunch is almost over.” 

Hearing the chairs scrape the floor as they were pushed back, Draco bolted for the courtroom, his mind racing. 

“Draco darling, there you are!” Narcissa pulled him into her arms, and Draco let her pull him to the side. “Are you feeling all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” 

“I…I’m fine, Mother. I…your sentence. Where will you go?”

“We have family in France, darling, remember?” Narcissa pushed an errant hair from Draco’s face. He could see that she had been crying, and he didn’t blame her. “I’ll be sure to owl often.”

Draco smiled – she had said much of the same when he was eleven and going away to Hogwarts. Reminded of simpler times, his heart clenched as he remembered where he was and what was about to happen. 

-X-X-X-

Once everyone had returned to their seats – Narcissa in a charmed wooden box, clearly intended to hold prisoners – Draco stepped up to hear his fate. 

“You are here today charged with several crimes against wizard-kind…including but not limited to using a Vanishing Cabinet to transport Death Eaters inside Hogwarts, several uses of Unforgivable Curses, conspiring to murder Albus Dumbledore, attempting to turn Harry Potter over to Lord Voldemort…”

“Minister, if I may?” Harry stood, and Draco’s blood went cold. So soon? Draco hadn’t even had a chance to speak…not that he had any idea what he was going to say, but that was besides the point…

“Of course, Harry.” Kingsley answered, and the entire room fixed on the Boy Who Lived Twice. 

“Draco Malfoy and I are longtime rivals, starting in our first year and continuing each year after that. However, there was an incident in our sixth year that…altered my perception of him, and his actions that followed.” Harry paused. “Each act that Draco committed was to help his family. Yes, it was to help them look better in Voldemort’s eyes, but in doing so, he was trying to prevent their deaths. I think we can all attest to trying to protect those we loved during the war.” Multiple witches and wizards nodded, and Draco’s mouth dried up. It – the plan that Draco had overheard – was working. “Along with that, he was pivotal in Voldemort’s defeat.” 

Gasps sounded around the room, and now everyone turned their stares to Draco. The blond boy, on the other hand, had his gaze locked on Potter. “At the top of Hogwarts’s Astronomy Tower, I watched Draco lower his wand when facing Albus Dumbledore. He’d been ordered to kill our Headmaster, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. So, Severus Snape committed the murder. Draco’s mother had made an Unbreakable Vow with Snape to protect Draco at all costs, and Snape had made an agreement with Dumbledore before that as well. Before that, though, Draco disarmed Dumbledore and became the true master of the Elder Wand.”

Draco’s knees shook. _That…couldn’t be true. Could it?_

“Months later, Snatchers caught me and my friends and brought us to Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix questioned Draco, demanding to know if we were who they thought we were. Draco didn’t reveal us, despite definitely knowing it was us.” 

He paused again here, and Granger took his hand, squeezing it. Draco could see the pain in her eyes, even from here, and guilt spread through him like Vince’s Fiendfyre. Listening to his aunt torture Granger was one of the most horrific things he had ever endured. “I disarmed Draco when I got the chance, and in doing so, became the master of the Elder Wand myself. You see, it’s thanks to Draco in a lot of ways that I’m still standing here.” 

Potter met Draco’s eyes then and had the audacity to smile. 

Draco looked away. 

-X-X-X-

“In lieu of a vote,” Kingsley said after minutes that felt like hours. “I am going to make a Ministerial Modification to the Wizarding Law guidelines.” 

Draco nearly took a step back, his shock like a whip through his entire body. Ministerial Modifications were so rare that few people even knew they existed. “I am going to declare Mr. Malfoy’s sentence myself.” 

Outrage from the Wizengamot ensued. 

_“That’s an abuse of your power!”_

_“You can’t do that!”_

_“He’s a Death Eater!”_

_“Shacklebolt you coward!”_

And those were the more polite responses. 

“Enough!” Kingsley shouted, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. “I was moved by Mr. Potter’s testimony and I, as Minister, do not have to explain myself further.” He stared down at Draco, and the blond felt sweat slide down his back. “Mr. Malfoy, I hereby sentence you to house arrest for a period of one year.” 

Draco hardly believed his ears. He heard his mother cry out in relief, but distantly, as though he were at the opposite end of a tunnel. His mind felt hollow and full all at once, and his heart was trying to burst out of him. “Of course, you’ll have to be watched by an Auror, and your magic will be restricted, but I imagine this will be preferable to Azkaban.”

Something twinkled in Kingsley’s eyes, and Draco’s throat closed up. He felt close to tears, and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, it was thanks to Potter that he had gotten off so lucky. 

The next words he heard shattered his world all over again. 

“I volunteer.” 

Harry’s eyes were bright and determined, and Draco felt something surge up inside him at the sight. 

Kingsley’s eyes widened, even he was surprised at Potter’s expression. 

“You’re sure you’ll be able to live with him, Auror Potter?” 

“Yes, Minister.” 

“And you swear to alert your partner if anything goes wrong?” If Malfoy tries to kill you? went unsaid. 

“Yes.” Harry answered. 

“Well then…I, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, do hereby release Death Eater sympathizer Draco Lucius Malfoy into your care, Auror Harry James Potter.” 

-X-X-X-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello! Welcome to my first ever chaptered Draco/Harry fanfiction! I’ve been getting a lot of nice feedback on my other Drarry story, and this idea sort of came to me one day last week. I’m still working on the outline, and my life is still insane most of the time (Part time job, grad school, social life, self-care somewhere in there, ya know…) but working on this has been a nice outlet, so I’m going to do my best to update frequently. 
> 
> That said, please feel free to let me know what you think!
> 
> -Charmy


	2. Once A Slytherin

Stylish high heeled shoes clacked against marble floors, the sound echoing in the corridors of the Parkinson family home. Pansy sat relaxed on a purely white couch, her black hair stark against the purity of the color around her. She inspected her nails, one leg crossed over the other, and only rose her gaze when the clacking stopped, and her mother stood before her. 

“Sit up straight.” Ophelia Parkinson snipped. “I taught you better manners than that.” 

“If I recall correctly, you didn’t teach me anything; Francine instructed me throughout my childhood.” Pansy’s governess was the closest thing she’d had to a loving parent. 

Ophelia waved her hand dismissively. “She was acting on my behalf, as I was preoccupied with ensuring the power of the Parkinson name, at least among the Pureblood elite.” 

Too preoccupied to give a damn about your own daughter. Pansy thought viciously. 

“So. Father is…indisposed. What of my inheritance?” 

“Greed does not look good on you, Pansy.” Ophelia responded, her lips curling into what could only be described as a sinister smile. 

“I thought everything looked good on us.” Pansy answered innocently. “Wasn’t that the point of all those procedures?” Ophelia was famous in Pureblood circles for having magical surgeries to make her appear younger and thinner than she actually was. 

“Don’t play games.” Ophelia snapped. 

“I’m not.” Pansy shot back. “I want to know what I’m getting. I deserve-”

“You deserve nothing, after the way you shamed us during the War.” Ophelia cut her off, finally deigning to sit down on an arched chair opposite her daughter. “Explain to me exactly what you thought you would gain from giving Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord?”  
Pansy’s face colored. “Or from aligning yourself with the Carrows? It would have made more sense for you to-”

“I don’t need to hear what you think I should have done, especially when you were cowering here instead of actually fighting!” 

“You know very well why I wasn’t present that night!” 

“Doesn’t make you any less of a coward!” 

SLAP!

Pansy’s cheek stung, hot tears shooting to her eyes as she stared to the side. She slowly turned her head to meet her mother’s incensed gaze. However, she refused to give Ophelia the satisfaction of reaching to touch the burning mark. 

“You ungrateful little whore,” hissed Ophelia. “We have given you everything you could have ever wanted or needed, and this is how you repay us?”

“I didn’t realize bearing your name was a give and take.” Mostly take. Pansy thought, her fingers clenching around the leather furniture. “I apologize for the inconvenience I’ve forced upon you by being your heir!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Ophelia growled. “You came here to inquire about your inheritance, which you were promised when you turned 17.”

Pansy gave her a terse nod. 

“Well, things have changed. The Dark Lord’s defeat was never a thought to your father, either time it happened.” 

Pansy’s stomach swooped and sank at the malicious expression on her mother’s face. 

“In order to be given your inheritance, you must marry a pure-blooded male and produce a child. The goblins at Gringotts have been instructed to withhold all of the money until you present a marriage certificate that shows you have done what is required.”

“But what if I don’t want to get married?” It was the only thing she could think of to say, her blood like ice in her veins. 

Ophelia tsked. 

“That’s a shame, darling. Perhaps you should have thought of that sooner.” 

~*~

“What a bitch,” Blaise Zabini declared later, as he and Pansy had drinks at a small tavern in Knockturn Alley. 

“Tell me about it.” Blaise smirked and opened his mouth, and Pansy shot him a glare. 

“I would marry you,” Blaise said candidly. “But I prefer cock to cunt. Apologies.” 

“Like I would want to marry you.” Pansy sneered. “I do have some standards.” 

“Low as they are,” Blaise shot back, and then took a long pull from his Firewhiskey, his eyes glittering mischievously. “Well, Draco is off the market, as he bats for my team-”

“Don’t you dare start listing off potential suitors-” Blaise ignored her. “Nott’s asexual, so good luck convincing him to produce an heir, even if he was interested in marriage,” Blaise began. “Most of the other Slytherins from our year are dead or in Azkaban,” he added, which Pansy was already bleakly aware of, “And you’ll be hard pressed to find any other pureblood that would take your tainted heart-” 

“Shove it up your arse.” said Pansy with a miserable sigh.

“Where and when?” he asked with a lascivious grin. 

“It’s just like my mother to put this clause in.” Pansy said after a beat, swirling her red wine before her. “I doubt my father even agreed to it, he just didn’t want to piss her off.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Blaise agreed. “Or, in your case, mildly inconvenienced.” 

Pansy sighed. 

“It’s not as though I have no money to my name,” she said softly. “…But the inheritance would certainly help matters.” 

Blaise didn’t miss the reference to the plight of Death Eaters and their sympathizers. Though things had gotten slightly better, they were nowhere near perfect. Most pure-blooded families had dissolved or disowned their heirs/heiresses. Any respect that had been earned, either by fear or by feat, had long since vanished. 

Many of them, Blaise and Pansy included, regularly received threats and were on the wrong end of hexes and curses alike, always looking over their shoulders with their wands at the ready. Most wizarding landlords found ways to avoid renting flats to former Death Eaters, for fear of being on the wrong side once more. 

“It’ll work out.” Blaise said, trying to be positive. Pansy glared at him again, though it was dull and ineffective as compared to her usual spite. “Potter and company are trying to-”

“Did you hear the news?!”

A blustery teenager came running into the restaurant, carrying copies of the Daily Prophet in a sidelong satchel. “The Malfoys have been sentenced! The Malfoys have been sentenced!” 

Blaise and Pansy looked at each other in surprise. 

The paperboy ran about the dark tavern, slapping newspapers on each table, occupied or not. 

MALFOYS SENTENCED!  
LUCIUS TO AZKABAN! NARCISSA BANISHED! DRACO IN POTTER’S CUSTODY! 

“Oh Draco must love that,” Blaise mused, watching Auror Potter guide Draco from the courtroom to the Apparition point in the Atrium.

__

__

Pansy scanned the article, which was as biased and narrow-minded as could be, but not terrible in terms of journalistic ethics. Her eyes narrowed in on a specific point:

_Draco Malfoy will be under Harry Potter’s protection for a period of one year. Interestingly, our Savior volunteered to take in the Death Eater sympathizer. We can only speculate as to why._

__

__

_When asked about the events, Auror Ron Weasley, Potter’s best friend and partner in the Aurors, had this to say: “The ferret better not lay a hand on Harry, or I’ll be the least of his worries.”  
_More information on Page 3.__

____

____

The wheels in Pansy’s head turned, and Blaise could practically see her calculating something, just based on her facial expression alone. 

_My mother said I had to marry a pure-blood…she didn’t say which pure-blood it had to be…_

__

__

~*~

“It’s…quaint.” Draco said delicately, upon his and Harry’s arrival at the latter’s cottage. 

The affair at the Ministry had been short – Draco had received the official paperwork that left him under Harry’s care for the next year. His mother had left for France right then, delegating Ministry officials to do what they wanted with the Manor. Draco supposed he ought to feel some sort of sentimentality in the loss of his childhood home, but he found that the Dark Lord’s encampment had all but erased his good memories there. 

The cottage, from the outside, was small, but cozy. Two floors, likely just the bedroom on the top level, with the living room, kitchen, and lavatory on the bottom. Off to the side, there was a smaller cabin, one that Draco assumed had been home to Muggle servants at one point or another. 

“The guest house is yours.” Harry gestured to the aforementioned quarters. “Course you’ll have to come up to the main house to go to the loo, but…” Harry trailed off, and then sighed. He ruffled his untamable hair “Look, I don’t want to be enemies. I think we’ve gotten past that.”

“The fact that you volunteered to be my guardian makes that quite clear-” 

“I didn’t want you to get stuck with someone who blindly hates Death Eaters!” Harry interrupted hotly, as though he’d been waiting to say it. 

“I suppose you don’t have a lot of faith in your coworkers then, Potter?” Harry’s jaw clenched, the muscle feathering in his cheek. 

“You could try being grateful.” he ground out. 

“Hm.” Draco sniffed. “Grateful to live with my school rival in an upgraded servants’ quarters? Or grateful that you were in the mood for a charity project?” 

Harry’s lip curled, and Draco felt a sudden, overpowering need to argue with Harry again, just like old times. He craved the give and take, the passion- “I mean really, Potter-”

__

__

“For once, do the world a favor and shut up.” Harry snapped. “And if we’re going to be living together, you could call me Harry.” 

For some strange, stupid reason, Draco’s neck surged with heat – the way Potter said “living together” made it sound more…intimate. More like a choice than a bloody prison sentence. 

And Draco would never choose to live with Harry Potter of all people. Of course not. 

~*~

Draco’s quarters were similar to the main house in that it was tidy, almost like a cheap flat, and Draco was surprised to find he rather liked it. Naturally, it was bigger on the inside than it appeared, but not overbearingly so. 

The furniture was arranged nicely and the windows were wide and let in a lot of natural light. There were Muggle devices that he hadn’t the faintest idea how to use, or even what they were called, and it occurred to him that he was going to have to ask Potter to explain it to him. Resentment pooled inside him at the mere thought. 

__Really? Just come over and ask you pillock.

Oh, that. 

A spell that the Ministry had insisted on in order for Harry to efficiently watch over the dangerous former Death Eater – telepathic communication. 

Shut up, Potter. You should come here and be a decent host. 

**_I’d rather you come to me and ask for help. Or starve to death, your choice._ **

**__**

**__** __

Prat.

~*~

“This is an oven,” Harry explained, gesturing to the iron-cast device in his kitchen. “It’s enchanted so it won’t cause a fire if it’s left on-”

“Forgetful, are you?” Draco taunted, and Harry glared at him. The blond waved a hand, a silent request to continue. 

__For once in your life, could you try not being a ponce?

For once in your life, could you try not being a nuisance? 

“This is called a refrigerator. It keeps your food fresh-”

“We have a spell for that,” Draco cut in. He knew he was being obnoxious - he just wanted Potter to react for Circe’s sake. “Have the Aurors turned you to stone? Or do I need to insult Granger and Weasley to-"

__

__

Potter’s wand was in his face before he could finish the thought. 

“Don’t.” 

Power surged around Harry – Draco could see sparks in the other man’s hair and Draco forced down his fear. He’d always known Potter was powerful, but his magic…the pureness of it was…exhilarating. “Don’t say anything about my friends if you want to keep your face pretty, Malfoy.” 

Well. 

Clearly, Potter’s time as an Auror had changed his former rival and Draco looked forward to finding out more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re confused, **_this_** indicates Harry, and **this** indicates Draco. Hope you all enjoyed chapter 2! Sorry about the delay with this, I’ve been super busy with school and work, but I finally got the time to finish this! Yay for me!
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think!
> 
> -Charmy


End file.
